


with my toes in the sand

by aucrio



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Charles Xavier, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Hurt No Comfort, So much angst, Whump, another adventure of me not beta'ing my work, charles xavier whump, it's cherik if you squint, what happens in cuba... shouldn't stay in cuba, yeah it's another cuba fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aucrio/pseuds/aucrio
Summary: This is how Magneto is born.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Kudos: 31





	with my toes in the sand

**Author's Note:**

> i found this prompt hidden deep in my google docs, so i decided to share this 2 year old piece with you :)  
> i haven't been active in the fandom for quite some time, so apologize if any of the info here is wrong.

Charles dies with a stain on his lips.

They fumble, picking up sand between their suits and hurling broken pleas between their teeth. Charles reaches up, cracked fingers straining against the distance between the damned helmet, and gasps, “Erik, stop!”

A fist cracks against his cheekbone and his head jerks to the side, a different sort of hurt curling underneath his breastbone. He grapples at the sand underneath him and pants. The weight on top of him is gone in an instant, snapping Charles out of his stupor. He watches, shaking limbs fueling the sudden wave of fear that claws at his rib cage. Erik is all stone and cursed storms– raging earthquakes and unearthed pain. Moira stands against him, her body pulled taunt like she was trained to do, and aims. The sudden ‘ _Erik_!’ is at the forefront of his mind and he launches to his feet.

Erik flicks away the bullets with experienced ease; slices the metal with a mere bend of his wrist. Everything else fades, and it's just Erik and metal– groaning at his fingertips, serenity be damned.

And then everything stops.

Moira isn’t firing anymore. Instead, she topples the gun. Her face twists into a horrific cry and her hands fly to cup her screams. Her eyes settle past Erik’s right. Then, it clicks.

 _Charles_.

Erik twists around and he faces the bullet hole embedded in Charles’ forehead.

Charles doesn't get past the first syllable of a name. Pink lips are formed vaguely in the shape of a certain German, contorted and wobbling in a broken line of red. The press of lips are limp, moving on mindless command as he tries with frantic thought to sear his parting gift into Erik’s mind. But the damning helmet, a gaping chasm between that beautiful head and his tornado of thoughts, prevents any idea of him to slip through. Any waves of comfort are swallowed up by the void standing frozen before him. He tries swallowing, attempting to push past the rapid numbingness, but a knot twists deep inside his throat. Desperately, he forms words, pursing his lips and shaping them into an odd shape of a lost declaration of something. For the second time in his life– his words fail him.

His eyes, transparent to match the brilliant blue of the sky, are wide and so loud. They scream of unanswered questions and of a song plucked fraught with the Walther PPK’s shrapnel. The quick, unmasked fear flickers like a timely film, spilling every secret that Charles had tried so desperately to keep. Before Erik could decipher each raw story, torn plot lines with various winding paths, it’s all gone in an instant.

Erik doesn’t catch the noise torn from his throat. It is quiet, barely an exhale of air as a silver bullet tears through the nerves, catching his consciousness and ripping it to shreds. It makes its exit. There is no finale or parting words. There is no fractured gasp to break the silence. It all happens in a blink of an eye.

The sand mutes the thud of a body.

Magneto is born with a scream tangled in his throat.


End file.
